


Don't Care About the Beauty

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-18
Updated: 2011-06-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-series, Eliot works a job in Prague</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Care About the Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 20 minutes from a photo prompt of Prague, Cz  
> Also? This is posted date out of order despite my best efforts to fix it, A03 insists I wrote this on 17 June before which I most emphatically did not.

Usually Eliot doesn't mind Prague. It's a nice enough place, the women are willing and work brings him here often enough that it has a certain level of familiarity. He can get around easily and he knows a couple of decent places to eat if he has the time.

He wouldn't go so far as to say he likes it. But he doesn’t hate it.  
It's cleaner than Moscow and quieter than LA. People rave about the architecture but really he could give a shit. He doesn't care about castles or museums today (or most days).

He's here to do a job.

Get in, get out and not be dead when it's done. Make the scum bag he's chasing give up the data stick he's carrying. Disposal is at Eliot's discretion and the fact that this dick got the drop on him and now Eliot's got a loose tooth and a fat lip means it's looking like this guy is going to be a body floating down the Vltava when it's finished. Tough shit for him. No skin off Eliot's ass.

It's over fast and the guy is out of options the instant he pulls a gun on Eliot and starts waving it around making demands. Eliot doesn't like guns much. He really hates it when some douche-bag sticks one in his face thinking the fight is won.  
One blow to the throat, a sharp twist and it's done. Eliot shuts down the smallest part of his mind that once upon a time would have felt regret. 'Guys a dirt bag who pulled a gun' he tells himself as he rifles through pockets looking for the elusive data stick. There is moment when he cant find it and a voice in the darkest reaches of his mine starts screaming about killing the wrong guy. His fingers close around the thumb-drive and it's not relief he feels. It's **not**. It's satisfaction.  
He flips the body into the water and thinks wistfully about the cream sauce at Allegro on his way to the airport.


End file.
